A decade ago, Natalie Chanin found herself in New York with nothing fabulous to wear to a party. Holed up in the Chelsea Hotel, the former stylist decided to whip something up on her own, deconstructing and re-sewing one of her T-shirts for the occasion. The overwhelming response, coupled with the satisfaction she took in the act of creation, became the basis of her company Alabama Chanin, which produces a line of sustainable clothing completely handmade by the designer and seamstresses from her native Florence, Alabama. Over ten years, Alabama Chanin has enjoyed incredible success: selling out at Barneys during its initial run; accolades from Anna Wintour and the CFDA; expansion into a larger collection featuring embroidered dresses (these can take up to eight weeks to make); and the introduction of a new craft arm, Alabama Studio Style, which has released two books of the company’s most popular patterns and stitching techniques to make the looks accessible to everyone. In the process, Chanin has become a pioneer of the “slow clothing” movement by adopting regional, organic suppliers and sustainable practices well before they were fashionable. 

I wanted to see 200 T-shirts all sewn up, and I knew it was going to be impossible for me to do them all myself, so I started visiting manufacturers in New York’s Garment District. I realized what I wanted them to do looked exactly like a quilting stitch, and there were all these ladies in my hometown who were quilters. I thought, “If I want to get these shirts sewn the way I want, I have to go home.”

When we talk about sustainability, the thing that always gets me is that most people are only talking about the materials they use to make a product. Twenty years ago, sustaining life was about food, clothing and shelter. This separation from being able to sustain our lives—whether by growing a vegetable or sewing a dress or building a house for ourselves—has had consequences on our sense of self-worth and value as human beings. 

Mother Nature is always right beside you. If you leave a house for two years, it will be overtaken by vegetation. There’s so much life and so much earth close to you. 

I love Dorothea Lange and all the photographers with the WPA. Zora Neale Hurston, one of my favorite writers, was able to capture a slice of time that came before mine, which I cherish. There’s a great organization called the Southern Foodways Alliance, whose mission is to preserve and document Southern food traditions. They’ve been so inspiring to the work that I’ve done. 

The complaint about the collection was that the pieces were just too expensive. And they are expensive! But I got tired of people saying how elitist we were—we were in this little brick house you might find anywhere on the side of the road in rural America, working day and night to make these things possible. Open-sourcing became a way to make the product accessible to everybody. If you can’t afford to buy it, you can make it yourself. 

The kitchen, of course! I’m very happy when I’m cooking. 

There’s a great restaurant in Birmingham, AL, called Hot and Hot—I had one of the best meals of my life there last week. They have this drink and I can’t get the recipe out of them, so I’ve been experimenting with that. It’s vodka with fresh peach puree and a splash of prosecco or any kind of sparkly wine. So refreshing.